Thursday, February 27, 2014

Becoming A Character

Dennis Madden

Becoming A Character

Dear Esther is a breath
of fresh air in a world populated with fast paced ‘twitch games’ and mentally
taxing puzzlers. The unique presentation of a largely un-interactive world creates an environment in which we are not
playing a game, but instead, one in which we are
the game. By eliminating the reactionary overload imposed upon players by most
video games, Dear Esther allows us a greater deal of mental freedom to make the
game what we want it to be. When we are bogged down by an intricate story,
complicated HUDs, objective lists, and fast paced high-stakes scenarios, we are
forced to dedicate a large part of our cognition to simply fulfilling the game's
‘requirements’ instead of making it a personal experience. A quote from
Courtney’s reaction to Portal prompted this analysis: “I experienced having to take in a lot of
first-time learning as well as analysis all at once. Even after getting
somewhat used to the controls, I found myself getting sucked into the game and
overlooking the actual analysis I had been intending to evaluate as I went
along. Basically, I ended up playing most of it for fun without much thought as
it being for a critical analysis, which maybe says something about the game
itself or games in general” (Elvin).

Dear Esther on the other hand, offers us
essentially NO gameplay. Pinsof would even say “You better get used to it, becauseDear Esther only has three things going for it: its writing,
music, and visuals” (Pinsof). So then, if Dear Esther lacks gameplay, what is its
purpose? I conclude that Dear Esther is less a ‘gaming’ experience, and more of
a ‘personal’ experience. The simple familiarity of Dear Esther’s construction
affords us the ability to seamlessly meld with our surroundings to become part
of the whole that we are inexorably linked with: the environment. “To summarize and elaborate: in a computer
game we can have some object or objects that we are in control of as game
players. We are agents acting upon them. There is a link between the game
player and the controllable object. This means that there is a social and
psychological link to this object that rest on motor activity. This link is
often so strong that the object in control ceases to be understood as an
external object to the game player but rather is understood as an integral part
of him or her while playing the game. This is what I call the tactile
motor/kinesthetic link. This link is the relation between perception, cognition
and action. It is the foundation for my model of a Game Ego” (Pivec 51).
Because Dear Esther utilizes such simple mechanics (walking), we can relate not
only on a mental level, but a kinetic level as well. In Dear
Esther, we are not subjected to alien worlds, physics defying machinery, or
unrealistic superpowers, all of which are unable to be kinetically experienced
by our human bodies in reality. Instead, we are given a setting where we can do
exactly what a true explorer would do: walk, observe, and infer. This
familiarity and believability is part of what makes it possible for players to ‘become’
the character in Dear Esther. MacDonald makes a great point: “If nothing else, Dear Esther presents
one of the most absorbing and believable worlds in gaming”. Becoming part of a realistic environment is facilitated by the simple mundane mechanics
of the human person. When Pinsof states “All you do in this game is
walk. You literally hold down the “W”-key for 70 minutes -- even ducking, the
only other action, is automatic”, I beg to ask if he’s ever been on a
backpacking trip, or even a hike for that matter. He clearly does not have the skills
necessary to ‘experience’ his surroundings.

As I (notice
I, not my character) wandered over the cliffs and through the caverns, I wrote
a story, guided by the stunning visuals and inspiring music. Whilst completing
Dear Esther, one is completely capable of composing their own somatosensory
masterpiece. If time is taken to personally experience the environment, a vast
amount of information can be ascertained. For example…

Neurotunnel

This
image is just one of which could foster hours of analysis. When I walked
through, I noticed that it contained no less than 5 distinct and
morphologically distinct types of neurons: multipolar, unipolar, bipolar, pseudo
unipolar and purkinje. On top of that, the electrical circuitry intricately
represents neurophysiological membrane models to a scary degree. Dopamine, a
reward related neuromodulator, was constructed with chemical accuracy and
strewn across the walls, along with ethanol. This scene, coupled with my embodiment
in the character, dropped my jaw in a way that might represent my reaction to
this scene in real life. I felt the walls and the cool, damp atmosphere of the
cave. The glowing symbols shone in my eyes, and when I plunged into a pool, I
felt the cool water envelop me. This experience could only be supported by a program
which does not demand me to utilize complicated mechanics or unrealistic
concepts. I ‘felt’ Dear Esther, I was there, because all Dear Esther asked of
me was to be myself.

2 comments:

Although it's very much a draft, this is in some ways your best writing - you certainly do more in less space than you have elsewhere through the course of the semester, which is a very good thing.

You have some distinct but connected thoughts here. You are interested in the stripping-away of conventional video game elements; you are interested in the identification of the player with the character; you are interested in the idea that we *are* the game. While all three ideas are related, and you could certainly draw the connections more tightly than you have - and you could make any of them be very successful in a revision - let me briefly argue that the best of the three is the opening notion that *we* are the game.

Other people have been arguing in other essays that conventional video games are basically about goals and direction, and that therefore to various degrees and in various ways Dear Esther isn't a "real" game because it lacks that direction.

I think that you're on the brink of articulating the idea that the game does have a goal - but the goal is *to identify* with the narrator. Of your various formulations, that's the most interesting.

Beyond that, I'd be most interested in seeing you elaborate this set of interpretations through a more details "reading" of the game - especially through an analysis of its most relevant imagery.

Not only do you make some truly effective points in order for your reader to see the true value of Dear Esther rests on beauty of the world in which the “game” is set and not on truly interactive gameplay, but your writing style is truly efficient and very beautiful. Your attention to detail helps further your points immensely, such as when you write, “As I (notice I, not my character) wandered over the cliffs and through the caverns” you are using the simple choice of one word to emphasize that Dear Esther’s world truly immerses the player in it, and thus that is where the strength of the game lies. You make a good point of how this lack of interactivity actually makes Dear Esther a step in the right direction for gaming, claiming we feel “bogged down” by more intricate and complicated games, and that Dear Esther allows us to be ourselves.

If you were to revise this essay, I would suggest that you maybe shorten your quotations. They are effective, but I feel like they almost take up the bulk of your essay, and can be shortened while still retaining the point they are trying to make. Also, I think that you could write a more definite conclusion. It seems to me that you go right from your last point immediately into your conclusion without summarizing what you have stated in your essay and why we should care about it. On a side note, I wouldn’t end your introduction with a quotation from a reviewer, but your own words, preferably in the form of a clear thesis statement. Overall, it was a very interesting and nice essay to read. Good work!